


Maybe Not So Straight

by PetitMinou



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 14:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5874325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetitMinou/pseuds/PetitMinou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No, that train of thought needs to stop right now, because the only thing more inappropriate than a crush on your very straight best friend is a crush on the very probably quite straight heroine of Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Not So Straight

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt on tumblr: "Alyanette, a walk in the park. Not sure if Alya should know who Marinette really is or not..."
> 
> Well...it's technically Alyanette still...

Alya lives for Saturdays like this.

She’d turned up at Marinette’s at nine in the morning, unsurprised to find her lazy-bones best friend still asleep.  Sabine smiled and waved her upstairs, and a flying pounce from the top of the ladder up to Marinette’s loft quickly remedied the situation. Marinette shoved her back down into the main part of the house, soft and small and sleepy.  Half an hour later she reappeared, her hair up in her customary pigtails, and now they are wandering through the park next to Marinette’s house.

Marinette had packed up warm croissants and a couple of Alya’s favorite cherry pastries and she’s carrying the basket lightly against her hip as she leans over Alya’s shoulder to check out the latest pictures on the Ladyblog.  They’ve made two laps of the park already, and Marinette doesn’t seem to have even noticed, and Alya’s not about to mention it.  Not with warm mint-scented breath on the side of her neck and Marinette’s arm linked through hers, blue eyes fixed on her phone screen.

“This is ridiculous,” she argues, squinting at the image.  “How does the submitter even know it’s Ladybug?  It’s just a blur."

Alya tsks at her, bopping her playfully on the nose.  “To the untrained eye, maybe, but to a _true_  fan it’s obvious.  And that—“ she zooms in on another figure, shadow within shadow against an iron girder of the Eiffel Tower—“That’s Chat Noir.  Now, there wasn’t an Akuma sighting last night, so what do you suppose Ladybug and Chat Noir were doing up the ‘tower at one am, hmm?"

She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, and Marinette snorts and shoves her.  “I still think it’s ridiculous.  Chat Noir is cool but there’s no way Ladybug is into him."

“Oh?”  Alya stops, grinning as Marinette faces her with a huff.  “Do you know something I don’t know?  Spill!"

Marinette flushes.  (It’s so cute how she does that, and Alya wonders if she could ever make her friend’s ears turn red, the way a certain boy does).

“N-not really,” Marinette stutters, “He just doesn’t seem like her type.”  She looks away, breaking Alya’s gaze, and startles.  “Wait…weren’t we going to eat breakfast over by the carousel?"

Alya gives a long-suffering sigh and reaches out to take the picnic basket.  (It’s heavier than it looks, how does Marinette carry it like it’s feather-light?)  “We were, but _someone_  has her head in the clouds again.”  As if she wasn’t the one who had been unashamedly basking in her best friend’s attention and hadn’t commented on their little circles.

But Marinette shrugs and giggles and oh it’s just not _fair_.  Alya gives herself a shake and turns away, on the pretense of leading the way over to their favorite bench.  (Now is not the time for contemplating your _totally inappropriate_  crush on your _aggressively straight_  best friend.)

She has her expression well under control as they sit down and unpack onto a cloth between them.  She brings up Marinette’s latest design, and watches happily as her friend bubbles about the drape of fabric and how she’d found the _best_  color for this dress.

Marinette takes a bite of croissant and spews crumbs as she remembers a point.  “Oh, did you want me to make you something for the last day of _collège_?"

Alya laughs, reaching out to brush buttery fragments off Marinette’s knees.  “Of course, you know I love wearing your designs."

Marinette blushes again and mumbles something self-deprecating, and Alya opens her mouth to say something encouraging.  She never gets it out.  There’s a tremendous crash from the other side of the park, and they both lurch to their feet.

“Now?” Marinette groans, pouting, and Alya will ask about that later, but for now there’re more important things.

“Akuma!”  Her phone is already in her hand and she takes two steps towards the commotion before turning.  “You’ll be okay, right?"

Marinette looks up from digging in her ever-present little purse, looking guilty.  (Seriously?  She is so going to get the third degree later.)

“Y-yeah, I’ll head home.  Alya, you shouldn’t—"

The journalist is already running towards the commotion, and she almost misses Marinette’s sigh.  “Fine, just…stay safe."

Alya ducks behind the fountain, and turns back to wink.  “Aw, you do care."

Marinette scowls and stomps her foot, but she turns and runs for the park entrance.

Alya grins and reaches her phone out from behind the safety of the stone rim.  She cranes her head to see the screen, watching excitedly for the flash of red and black she knows is coming.

She’s so intent on any sign of Ladybug that she almost misses the tendrils of ivy creeping towards her around the fountain.  She turns just in time, yelps and draws her feet up, barely avoiding being grabbed, and then a laugh echoes from directly above her.

“I’m Poison Ivy, and no one will destroy my beautiful plants ever again!"

Alya looks up, and flings herself away a split second before vines crash down on bare earth.  The plant-based Akuma hisses her frustration.  “You can’t get away from me!"

Alya grins, raising her phone, adrenaline pounding in her ears.  “I don’t want to get away, this is great."

The Akuma’s snarl is interrupted when a familiar yoyo wraps around her, and Alya yelps as the plants lash out again.

She almost avoids them, but one catches her ankle to yank her upside-down into the air.  She nearly loses her phone, barely catching it by the ladybug charm.  The vine lifts her high, and she bends as far backwards as she can, using her phone screen to keep the struggling Akuma in her sights.

The girl is wriggling against the wire binding her, then grins at something Alya can’t see.  Before she knows what’s happening the vine around her leg flexes, whips, and the world spins wildly.

A scream in her ears—that’s her own voice, she hadn’t even realized she was screaming—and she clenches her eyes shut.

When the impact comes it’s surprisingly soft, and her eyes snap open at a very quiet, very _feminine_  grunt of effort.

 _Ladybug_  is holding her carefully, easily, with one arm beneath her shoulders and the other hooked behind her knees.  Bright blue eyes are fixed on the Akuma, soft mouth set, and Alya’s so star-struck she forgets to raise her phone.

The vines lash out again, and Ladybug jumps back, fingers digging into her burden.  “Chat!"

“On it!”  The black-clad hero flashes by them both, staff spinning in his right hand.  “You get her out, I got this."

Ladybug doesn’t even hesitate, spinning on the spot, adjusting her grip on the girl (she’s never been this close before, and _wow_  Ladybug is strong) and bounds away.

Alya flails for a second before her arms find their way around Ladybug’s neck.  “Wait, I have to film this for the blog—"

Ladybug ignores her, sprinting out of the park and down the street to an alley behind the school.  Alya closes her eyes, not used to moving this fast, and she doesn’t realize they’ve stopped until the support under her vanishes.  Her grip around Ladybug’s neck isn’t enough to catch her as she’s unceremoniously dropped.

“Hey!”  She looks up from where she’s been dumped on her butt in the dirt, a protest dying on her lips as she meets that flashing blue gaze.

“What was that?” Ladybug demands, gesturing back the way they’d come.  “Is that what you think is a safe distance, miss super-journalist?"

Alya blinks, and her mouth is definitely hanging open.

Ladybug’s not done, planting both fists on her hips and leaning forward, stance wide.  “You can’t go flinging yourself into things like that, you could have been hurt!"

“You do it,” Alya mutters rebelliously, and she can feel herself smiling as Ladybug stomps a foot angrily.

“That’s _different_."

Alya clambers to her feet, brushing herself off.  “I’m fine, you saved me."

She wonders if she should have kept her mouth shut, as Ladybug purses her lips in consternation.  (No, that train of thought needs to stop right now, because the only thing more inappropriate than a crush on your very straight best friend is a crush on the very probably quite straight heroine of Paris.)

Ladybug sighs, paces away and back again, hands clenching agitatedly.  “I can’t always be there to save you,” she mutters, “I don’t want to see you hurt."

It sounds so quiet, so vulnerable, it hits Alya like a blow to the chest, and she has to lighten the mood or she can’t _breathe_.  “Me?  Never.  I’m super-journalist, I’m invincible."

That startles a laugh out of the superhero, and her pacing brings her toe-to-toe with Alya, who swallows.  “ _Fine._   I guess I can’t stop you, but do me a favor."

They’re almost nose-to-nose, and Alya nods carefully, no more able to refuse than she’s able to breathe right now.

Ladybug hesitates, fractionally, her mouth twisting uncertainly, and Alya takes in a shuddering inhale.

_Mint._

That’s the only thought she has time for because Ladybug leans forward and plants a light kiss, barely a brush, on her lips.  Alya’s heart skips, no chance to react before it’s over, and Ladybug gives a little breathless giggle as she draws away.

“Sit this one out, okay?  And be more careful.  I don’t want my favorite pushy reporter getting hurt."

Alya opens her mouth, shuts it, and finally manages a small wheezing sound.  (Yes very good Alya, way to wow her with your way with words.)

Ladybug laughs again, _winks_  (Alya briefly considers the possibility that she is dead and dreaming all of this), and uses her yoyo to swing up over the school and back to the park.

Alya sits down.  Hard.  It takes her a long time to remember how to breathe, and longer before she can really think.  (Okay, maybe not as straight as I thought…)

* * *

 

Much later that evening a heavily edited video of the Akuma attack is posted to the Ladyblog.  Alya hadn’t even realized that her phone had still been filming where it was clutched to her chest through the conversation with Ladybug, and while nothing was visible, one could hear everything.

The only person she tells about what really happened is Marinette.

To Alya’s surprise, Marinette blushes up to the tips of her ears.  “And, what’d you think?” she asks quietly, not a trace of stutter, and Alya flops backwards on her friend’s lounge.

“Ladybug was my first kiss!  It was the best moment of my entire _life_!” she gasps, arms thrown over her head for dramatic effect.

“Hmm.”  Marinette sounds considering, and Alya isn’t entirely surprised when Ladybug shows up at her window that night.


End file.
